


connect with the sound you're making

by scribespirare



Category: Malevolent (Podcast)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Its really just porn nothing else, M/M, Masturbation, Once again posing the age old question:, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sharing a Body, Shower Sex, but did yall really expect anything else out of me?, is it masturbation if the entity in your brain makes you do it?, mentions of anal sex, sorta?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:35:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29934897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribespirare/pseuds/scribespirare
Summary: John and Arthur take a little break the night after escaping the hospital.
Relationships: John/Arthur Lester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	connect with the sound you're making

**Author's Note:**

> What's up, i think this might be the first fic for this podcast? Show writers, if you're out there, I'm so so sorry that it had to be this fic in particular. but also you know what yall were doing when you made two people share a body and made one of them (questionably) evil. possession kink is very real and strong. 
> 
> anyways, i hope someone out there enjoys this

_“I think, perhaps, we might be able to relax now. At least for a few hours.”_

Arthur’s shoulders loosen at the words, despite the fact that he can’t see the room around them where they’ve found said refuge. It’s not much he knows -the mustiness of the close air attests to that- just a cheap hotel for the night. He puts out his hands tentatively, looking for a wall, though of course the left one is numb from the wrist down. Still, he’s learned that if he jars it, he’ll get a resulting vibration up through the rest of his arm, which is useful enough.

“Where’s the bed?” he asks out loud once he gets that resulting vibration. His right hand replaces the left, fingers brushing against peeling wallpaper as he follows the lines of the room. “I know I was just in a coma, but I’m exhausted.”

_“To your right,”_ is John’s response, vague and only slightly helpful as always. _“But I think maybe you should shower first.”_

“Oh, that might be nice, yes,” Arthur murmurs. He hasn’t bathed in…well, too long to think about really, and he’s not sure he wants to count whatever sponge bath he was given while he was in the hospital. “Bathroom?”

_“A little…there.”_ Arthur’s hand bumps into the cool metal of a doorknob and he turns it, stepping into what must be the bathroom. _“A little light?”_

Suddenly, a realization of what’s about to happen shoots through Arthur, and he pauses. He’s not alone. He hasn’t been alone in quite a while now. And if he takes off his clothes to bathe, then…well, he’s not going to be the person seeing his own body.

It’s nothing hideous, that body, nor is it particularly special. But it is his, and he’s never exactly been one for…public nudity.

John makes a small noise of impatience in his mind, a brush of feeling against the inside of his skull like the whisper of fangs against flesh. _“What’s the problem now?”_

Arthur shakes his head, unwilling to share his prudish thoughts. “Nothing, sorry.” He flips the lights on and feels around for the counter. Once found he follows it to the right, feet bumping against the edge of a toilet, and then the bathtub. The pipes splutter and whine when he turns them on, his left hand working in perfect tandem with his right.

It’s odd how quickly he got used to this arrangement really; first his eyes, and now his hand as well. Will he walk perfectly fine if the numbness spreads up his leg next? Will he adjust so quickly to being one-person-but-two that he won’t remember what it felt like to be alone in his own body? The idea is terrifying.

He strips slowly while the water warms. From what he can hear the pressure is abysmal, but really it’s a miracle such a small hotel even has working showers, so he can’t complain.

His stomach is in knots as he pulls his suit off piece by piece, heart fluttering in the confines of his ribs, head fixed firmly straight ahead. If he doesn’t look down, then John won’t see anything.

If John finds any of this suspicious he doesn’t mention it. In fact, he’s oddly silent as the last piece of clothing hits the floor and they stand there, shivering in the cool air.

Straight ahead. Just look straight ahead. Up, even. Not that Arthur can even tell what he’s looking at, but he can at least control where his face is pointed. This has frustrated John in the past but Arthur’s never been more grateful for it than now. He can do this. He can definitely do this.

He’d been right about the water pressure. It feels like nothing more than a trickle over his body when he steps into the shower, fumbling briefly to find a door or curtain to close after him. Their proves to be neither for some reason, which makes his stomach churn. It’s not like he can see the open bathroom around him, but he can _feel_ all that open air, despite how tiny the room is. It makes him feel even more exposed somehow as the water sluices down his body and hits the ceramic floor as steady and audible as rain.

_“You know, this whole process works a lot better if you actually wash yourself.”_ John’s voice makes Arthur jump slightly, fingers on his right hand curling into the palm.

“I know how to shower,” he snaps.

_“Could have fooled me the way you’re just standing there.”_

“Maybe I just wanted to enjoy the water,” Arthur defends himself. Then, after a beat of unbelieving silence, “Is there any soap?”

_”There’s a small shelf built into the wall directly in front of you. Two bottles; the one on the left says shampoo, the one on the right says body wash,”_ John responds dutifully, if not a bit dryly.

Therein another problem presents itself. If Arthur grabs the bottle, he’ll have to put the soap into his left hand. That is, John’s hand. Which John will then use to soap up Arthur’s body.

The idea sends a shudder through Arthur that has nothing to do with the weakly heated water.

_“Are you hesitating because you don’t want me touching you?”_ John asks suddenly, hitting the nail on the head. Arthur can’t help a wince. _“That’s cute, Arthur, but you’re aware I’ve seen and touched far worse things than an adult male body? Just grab the soap already, I don’t think the hot water is going to last long.”_

As he’s done so many times before, Arthur obeys. It makes John give a little hum of approval, sending another thrill through Arthur’s body in the process that he doesn’t want to think too hard about. 

_“Good boy,_ ” John murmurs just to damn Arthur further, and Arthur’s breath hitches. _“Now pour it into your left hand._ My _hand. Excellent. Put the bottle back and help me lather it up.”_

There’s a strange haze settling over Arthur as he slowly follows the commands. He’s noticed before the way he feels when he listens to John, how naturally he does so and the sense of rightness that’s settled over him in the aftermath. But the sensation is usually overshadowed but whatever dangerous situation they happen to be in. This is the first time they’ve done anything even remotely normal, relaxing even. With the water pouring down on him, following John’s commands lulls Arthur and comforts him in a way nothing else ever has.

He rubs the soap between his hands to later it, even though he can’t feel one of said hands.

_“Stop. Now wash yourself, you’re filthy from running all over town. I’ll help.”_

Still looking straight ahead, Arthur begins soaping himself up. He can’t see his body, but he can feel the caked dirt and sweat, wet now but not properly washed away, and scrubs himself down. His left hand does the same, feeling foreign and intimate on his skin. The right hand is efficient, the left slow. It drags up an down his chest with languid strokes, dipping down to his waist line as if teasing him before moving up again.

This goes on for a while, Arthur occasionally getting more soap as he scrubs each part of himself in earnest. John, meanwhile, continues to merely pet and stroke in a facsimile of washing. Considering how much anxiety he’d initially had over this, Arthur feels like he should be more uncomfortable. But after following John’s commands, he feels only warm and a little floaty, going through the motions with a calmness he hasn’t felt since before all this began.

_“Look down.”_ The command startles Arthur from his reprieve. Unlike the others he hesitates to follow this one, thoughts skittering back to his first concerns. It would be weird to have John staring at his naked body, right?

_“I’m already touching you, Arthur,_ ” John murmurs, always astute when it comes to Arthur’s thoughts. _“Besides, didn’t I tell you I’d seen worse things than you naked? You’re not exactly hard to look at.”_

Still John falters. “I…this is weird, John.”

_“Why?”_ John challenges, and when did his voice become a purr and a growl all mixed into one? _“We’re already sharing a body, Arthur, whether you like it or not. I just need to make sure we’re clean before we get out.”_

Arthur breathes out shakily and latches onto the explanation. It makes sense after all, someone has to make sure they didn’t miss any dirt. Who knows when they’ll have another chance to bathe again after this.

So he slowly moves his head down, pulse quickening under his skin.

_“Good boy_ ,” John praises again. _“Now lets take a look, hm? Oh, you are pretty, aren’t you? I knew you were, but this is something else.”_

Immediately Arthur feels himself flush at the words, and he jerks his head to the side and, consequently, John’s gaze away from his body. “You said it wouldn’t be weird! Stop being weird!” he hisses. It takes effort not to cross his arms over his chest as if that will help in any way.

He’s expecting more teasing from his headmate, but what he gets is a wordless, threatening growl instead. It makes all the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, spine straightening as if he’s in some immediate danger. “John?” he asks tentatively.

_“You were doing so well,”_ John hisses, laments almost. _“Turn. Your. Head, Arthur.”_

Arthur swallows hard and does as he’s told.

_“Do not disobey me again.”_

“You’re not my master!” Arthur snaps, but he tucks his chin obediently all the same.

_“Not in name,”_ is the vague response, followed by a hum of appreciation, John’s sudden anger apparently quelled. _“You should see yourself like this.”_

“What, naked? I’ve seen it my entire life.” And it’s certainly nothing special. He’s taller than average, and whip-thin, corded with muscle from how active he is, but not bulky by any definition of the word. In the summer he tends to be a bit warmer of complexion, but in the winter, like now, he goes pale to match the sparse, white-blonde hair on his body.

But evidently that’s not what John means at all, because he purrs, _“Aroused,”_ into Arthur’s ear.

Arthur jerks at the word, caught off guard, and then feels his stomach drop. Because he _is_ aroused and he _hadn’t_ noticed. When had he gotten hard? His dick twitches and he shudders all over, confusion mounting.

_“You must really like obeying orders after all,_ ” John muses.

“That’s not-!” But if Arthur casts his mind back he realizes he probably got hard while following John’s commands, in that hazy, half-aware state. “I didn’t…”

_“But you did. And you’re going to do more. Touch yourself, Arthur.”_

His hand moves seemingly of it’s own accord, reaching for his cock, but there’s a faint hissing in his mind that stills him. _“Not there. Your chest.”_

Arthur redirects his right hand until it skates along the planes of his stomach, up to his chest. He pauses there, anxious and a little unsure of himself. What is he doing? How did it come to this? But a faint feeling of pressure in his mind, like being prodded, has him moving again before he can overthink it. He twists one of his nipples between his fingers and sighs at the sensation. It’s not a particularly sensitive area of his body, but there’s still a resulting twitch in his dick.

_“Harder,_ ” John commands.

Arthur does as he’s bid, pulling and twisting hard enough on his nipple that he winces, and not stopping until he’s ordered to move onto the other one. It receives the same treatment, and by the time he’s done the buds feel swollen and hot. A steady stream of pre-cum is also dripping out of his cock, warm water slowly washing it off sensitive flesh.

_“Turn the water off,_ ” is John’s next demand, his voice that half-purr, half-growl that Arthur is quickly growing to love. “ _Good, now step out of the shower. I want to see you better. All of you._ ”

The tile is cool under the soles of his feet, and already wet since there was no curtain. He takes his steps slowly and carefully, already knowing where John is going to want him. When his hip brushes the chilly counter he hisses and jerks away from it, then turns to face where he assumes the mirror is.

_“Take a step back and to your left_.”

His breathing is loud in his own ears and his flesh is quickly breaking out into goosebumps from the cool air around him. He can’t feel anything in reaching distance where John places him, making him feel adrift. But not alone. Never alone, not anymore.

_“I wish you could see yourself like this_ ,” John murmurs after a long, loaded silence. _“You are…obscene.”_ Arthur chokes on nothing, taken off guard, but that doesn’t stop John from continuing to speak filth directly into his mind. _“Your nipples are swollen and red, but not as swollen as the head of your cock. It’s leaking steadily, though I’m sure you can feel it. Do you think you could come like this, all flushed and hands in fists at your sides as I whisper into your ear, your dick hard and twitching with desperation? Probably not. You need…more.”_

“Yes,” Arthur admits softly, and his fingers twitch with the need to take hold of himself.

_“Not yet, baby._ ” The unexpected pet name has Arthur biting back a whimper. _“I need you to know how desperate you look first. Did you know you’ve been biting your lips? They’re all wet and puffy, like someone’s been fucking your mouth.”_ This time there’s nothing Arthur can do but whine; the sound simply pushes out of him without any conscious thought. In fact, his entire brain feels like it’s shutting down, going back to that hazy place from before.

_“Oh, you like that idea? You want someone to grab your hair and slam their cock down your throat, hold you there until you’re done gagging around it, until you can’t breathe anymore? I never took you for a slut in that uptight suit of yours, baby, but I guess looks can be deceiving.”_

“I’m not…I’ve never-.” The words simply won’t come. How does he explain that he’s never been all that interested in sex, that the only reason he’s reacting this way is because it’s John? John’s voice murmuring to him, bringing him to the edge and threatening to push him over it.

_“Sure you’re not,_ ” John coos, condescending. _“I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone pull of desperate as good as you do. If you really need it that bad, I’d bet all the money in that stolen wallet that we could find someone to fuck you. Hell, you could probably just stand outside the hotel door and ask the first passerby. No need to worry about looks when you can’t even see them. All you need is something big to choke on, to stretch you open and fuck you deep.”_

Arthur shakes his head, teeth digging into his lip. “No, I don’t want that.”

_“No? You don’t want to feel someone deep inside you, claiming you, fucking you hard enough that you can’t even make a sound?”_

He digs his teeth into his lip even harder, blood welling gently until it slips over the curve of his mouth and down his chin. But it’s no use, the words come spilling out regardless. “Not unless its you!” He gasps afterwards, body going tense as he waits for a response.

But of course there was no reason to fear. John growls low and menacing and pleased in his mind, and when he speaks his voice is the most guttural Arthur has ever heard it. _“Oh, pretty boy, I’m going to fuck you so hard you break the moment I get a body. You’ll be ruined for anyone else after me, won’t be able to even get hard without thinking about my hands on you, my voice in your ears, my cock in your ass.”_

Arthur finally breaks and grabs his cock. The head is slick with pre-cum, wetting his hand and making the first few strokes glide easily. He bucks his hips into it, chasing pleasure and relief so amazing it makes everything else whiteout around him. That is, until John growls and tells him, _“Good boy,_ ” again. His orgasm shudders through him as if it was connected directly to John’s voice, making him gasp and shudder in both pleasure and surprise.

“Oh, oh fuck,” he hisses, able to pick up the faint sound of cum hitting the tile floor below. “Jesus.”

_“Certainly not the name I picked for myself, but it works,_ ” John murmurs, and the only thing that keeps Arthur from rolling his eyes is the last of his orgasm shuddering through him. When he’s done he realizes he’d leaned over at some point and found the edge of the bathroom counter to brace himself against. His entire body feels flushed and overly-warm, breathing still elevated but slowly coming down.

“You’re an ass.”

_“An ass who just gave you an orgasm,”_ says John, all smug, and this time Arthur does roll his eyes. _“I already have plans for the next time.”_

“You’ll be lucky if we get a next time,” Arthur mutters, and pushes himself away from the counter top. His thoughts are picking up speed, bit by bit, because he apparently has a _thing_ for John, and hadn’t even known it until now.

_“Don’t overthink what just happened,”_ John warns, cutting into Arthur’s quickly spiraling thoughts. _“C’mon, you’re exhausted. Go to bed.”_

Arthur takes a deep breath and uses it to steady himself. “Right. Okay.” John’s right, as he usually is. “Take me to bed, demon.”

_“Gladly.”_

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on [tumblr](https://scribespirare.tumblr.com/) if you also like this podcast, i need friends.


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